


Darkness

by BlaiseKillmonger



Category: Black Panther (2018), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Blind Character, Blindness, Character Development, Cousin Incest, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, M/M, Regret
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2019-10-26 23:18:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17755394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlaiseKillmonger/pseuds/BlaiseKillmonger
Summary: When he takes something from T'Challa that cannot be replaced or returned, Erik struggles to understand how his cousin can still be so understanding.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Something I worked on a while ago, based off an idea from a friend on Tumblr, and it was written some time ago so it may seem different from how I usually write.

Fuck. One more punch. One more kick. He could have chosen to deliver one of those but no, he had to be arrogant. He had to go one step too far. And every day he was met with the consequences of his rage. 

The day Erik threw T’Challa off the waterfall was the day he finally felt some relief. Some literal weight off his shoulders. After years of being trapped in the darkness, it felt good to hear the screams of T’Challa’s mother, the cries from his sister. The Dora Milaje looked on and winced at the sight of one remaining man in the water, standing tall. But it wasn’t who they wanted or who they even knew. It was the ‘outsider’ who they all believed did not deserve the king’s time. Now he was the king of Wakanda and the Black Panther.  

Nakia instructed his family to follow her before Erik spotted them – it was obvious he would have them imprisoned or even killed to make up for his father’s death. Of course, the new king spotted Shuri leaving last and sneered at the sight of his family running away. Of course, they fucking would. T’Challa may have been their son, and Erik may have gone overboard, but the least they could do was pretend to be happy for him. But he knew they wouldn’t be even if T’Challa had simply yielded. Once again, his family left him behind, but this time he had his head held high. 

When they walked to Jabari Land with Everett they had lost all hope. T’Challa was dead, there was no doubt about that. But now they needed a new king. Someone to overthrow Erik. So, they sought for a savior in M’Baku, the leader of the Jabari Tribe. But what they were unaware of was that he had already paid his debt back to the Udakus. It was confusing as to why he declined the Heart-Shaped Herb but when he brought them to another room it made sense almost immediately. Even if what they saw overwhelmed them. 

They all gasped at the sight of T’Challa, bruised and cut, frozen under a pile of snow. They went to hug him but the tall man stopped them in their tracks. 

“I would not do that if I were you. Any physical contact can prevent him from healing,” M’Baku explained. His posture showed he was calm but the frown on the face said otherwise as if he were concerned for T’Challa. “Some fishermen found him in the ice just laying there, I believe his arm was caught on a block. He was inches away from being swept away forever.” 

Shuri looked at her brother and looked back at the giant man next to her. 

“If we cannot touch him, how are we to take him back to Wakanda?” She asked. He looked at her and shook his head. 

“You don’t.” 

“But we must-!” 

“Then he will die. The snow is the only thing keeping your brother alive,” M’Baku explained sternly. It almost sounded like he didn’t care about T’Challa but once again something about him said otherwise. “I suggest you give him the plant you talk about, it may help him recover.” 

Ramonda crushed the plant and fed it to her unconscious son with hope it would do something. Shuri decided to use her beads aware of the fact that Erik could trace the use if he wanted to. But those wounds and bruises on T’Challa’s face weren’t there when he was on Erik’s shoulders so she had to be sure he was okay. 

T’Challa confronted his father about Erik’s past and when he was ready to leave T’Chaka told him that life was going to be different and that the Heart-Shaped Herb could save his life, but it couldn’t save everything. It confused the young man until he woke up from the darkness. And realized he was still in it. 

“T’Challa!” Nakia exclaimed and T’Challa heard her voice but he could not see her.  

“Nakia? Shuri? I cannot see!” 

 

* * *

 

They had no choice. If T’Challa was to survive he would have to be brought back to the Citadel. When Shuri pleaded at first Erik ignored her and pulled a gun from the back of his pants out. This time he’d make sure his asshole cousin was dead. But then she cried out. 

“How can you shoot a blind man?!” 

Those words hit Erik and he turned to her with a frown. Shuri noticed the change in expression and attempted to back away but there was no stopping him. 

“What do you mean  _blind_?” Erik spat at her. She was silent and he grunted. “WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY BLIND?” 

His voice boomed in the room and she shook instantly. 

“He hit a rock, the blunt trauma caused a cerebral contusion-” 

“Enough of the boring shit, get to the point.” 

“You threw him off a waterfall, he hit rocks while traveling down unconscious, now he’s blind. In other words, you are a monster.” 

 _I am a monster_ , Erik thought with pride. But soon he thought about it with guilt. And soon he was thinking to himself,  _what have I done?_  

Sneering at his cousin, he rolled his eyes and looked at the unconscious man lying across the floor after M'Baku had offered to carry him back. It wrenched his stomach to see the product of his evil but also irritated him because he'd failed to kill T'Challa. And now he couldn't. 

"So...what, he won't ever see again?"

Shuri picked up on the slight quiver in his voice, as if this bastard actually had a speck of remorse for what he had done to her brother, and she was heartbroken to answer his question.

"Yes. He'll be blind for the rest of his life."

Returning his eyes to the body on the ground, Erik couldn't help but think of what would happen next. He couldn't banish T'Challa, it would be a coward's way of getting closure - if he got any closure from that. He couldn't kill him. He'd actually have to take care of him, even if it meant getting someone else to do it. Now T'Challa was getting him to do things without even being awake.

Even if he hated the thought of it, Erik knew it was only the right thing to do by helping T'Challa cope with his blindness. So he instructed the Dora Milaje to carry him into a holding cell as he pondered on what action to take next.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> damn, my writing for t'cherik has definitely gotten rusty...

Erik tried for everything to be more-or-less the same. He was almost desperate for life to remain undisturbed, but it was practically impossible given the new circumstances. After all, he couldn't kill T'Challa like he wanted so the man had to remain in Erik's custody for likely the rest of his life. The entire situation would not have been so bad if, over time, Erik's conscience had not grown to work against him but despite keeping a notable distance between himself and his cousin - also known as he refused to visit T'Challa or even speak about him - all he could do in his throne was think on what had happened.

He shouldn't have felt bad.  _Right_? No, right. The privileged bastard's father killed his own father. But they were just children, even T'Challa himself. And T'Challa probably didn't know about that night. Maybe he'd gone too far with this whole thing, or at least fighting T'Challa. Even after knowing everything he'd done, the prince had still attempted to make things right between them and resolve this without violence. Which ended up with him being thrown off the waterfalls and losing his sight permanently.

"For fuck's sake..." Erik muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes. It had been two weeks since he became king and yet it felt like an eternity that he possessed this new-founded guilt. He could have spent the rest of his life and reign avoiding his remorse but he knew that it likely would not work in his favor. Huffing, he moved his wrist inwards to look at his kimoyo band and tapped it once, ringing Shuri. After a few seconds, she answered, crossing her arms and looking at him.

"What do you want?" She asked sternly. Though understandable, Erik did not like that one bit.

"You'll remember I'm a fuckin' king when speaking to me," he spat, visibly annoyed. But she was too.

"And you will remember that I am a teenaged girl. I saw how you felt about T'Challa, I know that germ-sized conscience you have won't allow you to sleep if you harm me. Now, what is it?"

Erik couldn't believe the gall this girl had but she was right. He had killed thousands of people without even considering what he had done yet he was more than aware of how much his guilt would carry over if he was to hurt Shuri. Murmuring something under his breath, he leaned forward and sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose firmly with obvious frustration.

"How is he?"

Shuri was taken aback by his question, mostly because this was the first time he'd asked about T'Challa but also because, for the first time since she met him, Shuri could almost read concern for another human being from Erik's facial expressions. 

"He's okay. His wounds have healed, no thanks to you burning what's left of our heart-shaped herbs. I think T'Challa would benefit if you spoke to him."

 _Fuck that_. Erik scoffed and opened his mouth to say the exact same, even if in his mind, he didn't really want to dispute the idea, but Shuri interrupted him.

"Before you say no, let me ask you this. If my brother was a floor below your apartment when you were at your loneliest, would you not want him to visit you? Right now, he is lonelier than he has ever been, he cannot see anything and all he wants is to talk to you."

Really? Him? Erik would have thought he was the last person T'Challa would want to hear from.

"The guy who blinded him? Seriously? This ain't some trap is it?"

Shuri sighed and shook her head. 

"My brother insists my loyalty lies to you, even if I hate your guts. I won't go against you but I don't have to enjoy your presence either. T'Challa just wishes to talk with you."

Clenching his jaw and looking idly at the holographic image of Shuri from a single kimoyo bead, he sighed irritably and mumbled  _'fine...'_  loud enough for Shuri to hear before quashing the call between them.

 

* * *

 

In the end, the king of Wakanda chose to simply wear a long black sweater robe that trailed all the way to his feet with no shirt underneath and a pair of black cargo pants. He knew he didn't have to dress up considering T'Challa would not know what he was wearing, but he still made an effort for whatever reason why. The Dora Milaje followed behind Erik and once he was outside the holding cell he had T'Challa in, he ordered them to leave them.

"Are you sure we should - "

"Are you questioning me? Do I need to..." He started. At first, it seemed like a good idea to remind the Dora Milaje of what happened to people who questioned him, but then he thought back on it and hated himself for even thinking of hurting a woman. His father raised him much better than that. This whole guilt thing had Erik wrapped around its finger and he hated it. "Just do it."

The frustrated sigh that followed pushed gently from his throat and he pinched the bridge of his nose while he opened the door. In reality, there was no need for all of this security - T'Challa hadn't once tried to escape and showed no signs of anger, but Erik reckoned that it was all a ruse. Shuri tricked him into feeling bad, making him vulnerable and probably snuck T'Challa something to use. They'd overthrow him,  _kill_ him even, and nobody would say a thing. 

But once the door was open, Erik trailed slowly into the room and T'Challa was comfortably positioned in the corner of the room, back against the wall and his eyes closed. When his head shot up, so did a smile.

"N'Jadaka. You came."

It almost sounded like excitement from T'Challa and Erik felt shivers down his spine through legitimate fright. He had not expected that tone whatsoever and suddenly his breath was shaky.

"I... _did_. Shuri said you wanted to talk. So I'm here. Talk."

Saying the sentences quickly and brushing off any attempts for the conversation to be longer than it had to seemed like the best way for Erik to get this over and done with. To make it easier.

"Is that  _really_  how you want to be?" T'Challa asked with that same lingering smile. "It's been how many years? Twenty-something?"

"Twenty-fuckin'-four," Erik spat coldly.

"Please, sit. I just want to talk about everything."

Erik's nostrils flared at what T'Challa asked him for. For over twenty years, the Californian had become a bloodhungry, vengeful soldier because of what T'Chaka had done to his family and now his son was asking the king to sit. Blood boiled and Erik wanted to stab T'Challa where he stood but instead, he huffed and sat on the ground, next to T'Challa. 

It was pure silence between the two until T'Challa cleared his throat.

"Erik, I want you to know that I'm sorry for what my father did to yours. I've been thinking about what my father asked me when I was young, a difficult decision he had made. I now know what I was he chose to do, and I'm sorry."

Hearing T'Challa give an apology for his father's deeds left Erik without a choice of words to use. Instead, he remained open-mouthed and ran his hand over his open mouth, firmly stroking his beard after. After twenty-four years, he could never have imagined hearing those words the way he was. Erik always supposed he'd hear an apology from T'Chaka himself, spurting blood from his mouth moments before Erik killed him but after he'd died Erik had to find someone else to pay.

"No, what are you doing?"

T'Challa frowned and looked at Erik, opening his eyes.

"Apologizing. I'm sorry for what my family has done to yours."

Erik still refused to look at his cousin and clenched his jaw.

"Apology not accepted," Erik scoffed.

"I didn't expect you to," T'Challa responded.

"Well good, 'cos I fuckin' didn't!"

Erik was quickly becoming more irked with T'Challa but couldn't bring himself to leave. Perhaps this whole 'feeling guilty' thing wouldn't allow him to leave until he and T'Challa closed their bridges. Pinching the bridge of his nose and grunting, Erik couldn't believe he would have to sit in the room for longer than he already had.  


End file.
